Life Goes On ...

Cancer diagnoses were for other people. I never gave a thought to how I would react to such a diagnosis. If I had, I would have guessed my world would grind to a halt and life would center on cancer.

But it doesn't.

Funny, but on the scariest day of my life, I managed to work in a great breakfast, a nap (one of my chief coping methods), a trip to my primary care physician and an urgent trip to the vet for my on-again, off-again blind dog. (Blind again!)

Referrals for a CAT Scan and surgeon's visit came through the next morning, as promised. Appointments were easy to schedule and the race was on. Cancer seemed to be a blip on the radar that periodically flashed into focus and drifted off again.

CAT Scan Dec. 2: The case of the disappearing veins
Prep for a CAT Scan would have been distasteful if I hadn't just prepped for a colonoscopy. CAT Scan prep, by comparison, was a frozen daiquiri. Finding a vein was another story. For the colonoscopy, it took two nurses and three sticks to start an IV. I thought that was bad. The CAT Scan folks required three people — including one who seemed near tears over my plight — lots of vein "thumping," hot compresses and five sticks. There were so many holes in me, I'm surprised the radioactive gunk I had to drink didn't leak out all over the scan bed.

Surgeon Meet & Greet Dec. 3
When I met with Dr. Shaver, I wanted this cancer out of me so I could move forward with my Christmas visit to Ohio. Could he could squeeze me in next week so I could take my scheduled Dec. 14 flight to Cleveland? The medical gods were having another chuckle at my expense. If I wanted surgery next week, Dr. Shaver — already overbooked — would make it happen. But ... I wouldn't be flying anywhere for three weeks due to the risk of blood clots. Plan B, at his suggestion, was to take my planned holiday trip and schedule surgery for the new year. "A few weeks will not make any difference in your outcome," he advised. Another surgeon concurred. Furthermore, she actually had the CAT Scan results and said it looked to her like it would be a "surgical cure" (no further treatment needed). Reassured, I put cancer on the back burner and planned to enjoy the holidays.

How to tell the family
Mark and I had been humming along toward finalizing our divorce. How does cancer fit into that picture? Somehow, I couldn't or wouldn't call to tell him. Finally, hours later, he texted me and said   since he hadn't heard anything about the colonoscopy, he assumed everything went OK. So I gave him the info and he immediately came home. It was strange, awkward, comforting. Pick your adjective.

Next up: Amanda, who'd been living outside London for four months now and was eagerly looking forward to three weeks stateside for the holidays. I'd get to burst her bubble. Thank heavens for Skype. I told her before the surgeon's visit. Both of us staved off the waterworks, and I promised to Skype again after the doctor's appointment. In the interim, reality set in for her: I was sick and she was 5000 miles away; neither of us was in a good place.

Nathan had a week's worth of finals looming in Texas. I hated "withholding" news, but "Surprise, I have cancer!" didn't seem conducive to studying. It was news that could wait to be delivered with hugs.

My sister, my rock of Gibraltar during the divorce process, was stunned with the news. We shared a few choice words — the kinds mothers would prefer to think you didn't know, much less use! — about the latest bad twist in my life.

My brother and sister-in-law would be visiting for a week at the tail end of a Panama Canal cruise. BC — before cancer — I was planning to take them to Vegas for a couple days, maybe up to LA. Instead, I got to tell them the kid sister had cancer.


Ohio, and the Midwest in general, treated us pretty well considering the season. There was snow when we go there and every few days a fresh dusting — just enough to keep it looking pretty and white. Got to see lots of family — the permanent members who are stuck with me and the soon-to-be exes (who will still be family in my book). But I cut the trip a week short when I started thinking of all that needed done before surgery.

Ironically, it felt good to be back "home" — even if the house is for sale, the spouse is bailing and surgery is on the horizon.